BAM What Happened in Paris
by Choice Creations
Summary: Do you really want to know what happened while BAM was in Paris? How and when Bianca and Maggie became more than just friends? How does Bianca know Leslie? How Cecelia came into BAM's life ...and tore them apart?
1. Chapter 1

Do you really want to know what happened while BAM was in Paris? How and when Bianca and Maggie became more than just friends? How does Bianca know Leslie? How Cecelia came into BAM's life ...and tore them apart?

* * *

**Nightmares & Dreams**

On the flight to Paris, they agree that the idea of Maggie living at the Cambias's hotel suite is unreasonable and overly-cautious. After all, they had lived together before. So they decide to live together when the arrive although...this arrangement, this time around, will be different and take on a whole new meaning; a meaning they can't quite define. One thing that Maggie does know is, until she sorts out her feelings - the constant and dreaded backdrop that always keeps the intimate side of their relationship at bay - she is certain that she will never sleep in Bianca's bedroom... Well, not most of the time anyway.

Tonight, on this night, after the first few months of living together, Maggie decides to sleep, yet another night alone, in the guest room.

Maggie comes home very late having spent the afternoon at the university library researching schools that offer French language classes, eating dinner in the quartier Faubourg St. Germain, then strolling, for what feels like hours, through an eclectic neighborhood of café terrasses and antique shops specializing in Moorish decor. As the sun sets, she mindfully keeps La Seine on her right so that she remembers which way is home. So when she arrives after dark, and sees that the foyer lamp is the only light left on in the apartment, Maggie does not want to disturb Bianca by crawling into bed with her. Bianca has probably fallen asleep early with Miranda. Disappointed, Maggie resigns to sleeping in the guest room.

...and when Maggie suddenly sits up in a cold sweat, panting in the darkness because she cannot escape Jonathon's scowl and his sweaty, dirty grasp - clawing at her arms, legs, ripping at her clothes, and pulling her hair - she realizes that she is no longer in Pine Valley. As her eyes adjust to the darkness, it slowly dawns on Maggie that the furniture in the room is different, the shadows cast on the wall are different, the smells around her are different, the mattress below her feels firmer and her sheets feel silkier. At least one of the windows in this room is actually a French door that opens onto a small wrought iron balcony - big enough for a single potted plant and one chair - and a fireplace gapes at her from across the room. It all comes into focus; she is in the guest room in the 19th century apartment that she shares with Bianca in Paris. Every since the move, the dreams only come when she sleeps in the guest room; Jonathon and her past never visit when she's in Bianca's bed.

Maggie places her palm on her chest to quell her rapidly beating heart. She wipes away the damp hairs that stick to her forehead. In the dark, she forages on the floor for the robe that she will wear over her camisole and boy shorts as she scurries down the frigid hall from the guest room to Bianca's bedroom on the other side of the apartment.

"There's no heat in my room," Maggie lies as she tosses her robe to the floor beside Bianca's bed.

"Mmm?" Bianca mumbles at the sound of rustling sheets and at the sensation of her bed depressing at one end. She is deep asleep. Bianca rolls over on her side unconsciously making room for another body. Maggie settles into her spot - on her side of the bed - away from Bianca, sinks her head into the down pillow, draws the sheets to her neck and immediately sails into a restful slumber, as if she never had a nightmare at all.

In Maggie's next dream she is suffused in a warm glow that extends from her head to her feet like she's comfortably wrapped in a cocoon or in a uterus fiercely resisting her impending birth especially if it means sacrificing this nurturing space. It's a warmth that makes her feel secure and still, yet restless and giddy. The glow keeps its form around her with every move that she makes never allowing an inch of her to be exposed to the coldness beyond.

Maggie slowly emerges from her sleepy haze into a veil of thick black hair. She is immobilized by a supple mass that obstructs movement to her legs and upper body. Maggie's fingers glide along exposed downy skin as she tries to figure out where she is and if she is still dreaming. A swell presses into her chest then recedes, then presses into her chest again and recedes. She is struck by how strongly Bianca's smell permeates this dream; she can almost taste her.

"Bianca...," she whispers to a far off place, to the other woman who Maggie still thinks is down the hall, in the other room.

Maggie's eyes blink wide open as she suddenly realizes where she is. Parts of her body slowly wake up to the benefits of their resting places: her head and face against Bianca's hair, her chest against Bianca's back, her knees in the crook of Bianca's and her arm draped across Bianca's bare arm. They are spooning. A small sheepish grin appears on Maggie's face as she recalls telling Bianca that she would only sleep on her side of the bed if they shared one together. But, of course, that wouldn't happen any time soon. Maggie does not dare move. She cherishes the heat of her friend's body against her own and mischievously delights in the furtive act of being this close to Bianca. Right now, Maggie doesn't care what this means all she knows is that it feels good, it feels peaceful, it feels heavenly, it feels naughty, it feels...

"Ooops," says Bianca who wakes up suddenly realizing the subconscious inspiration for the sensual dream she was having. Maggie quickly closes her eyes and feigns sleep. Disconcerted, Bianca scoots across the bed and draws the sheet around her barely clothed body to create a safe, platonic distance between her and Maggie. With her back still to Maggie, Bianca smiles, waits for the blush to subside from her cheeks and says, "Hey, sleepy head."

When she doesn't get a response, Bianca turns around to one of the most beautiful sights she has seen in a while. Through the slats in the closed wooden shutters, sunrays spread across their bed in light and dark stripes marking the beginning of a new day. The light reveals the brownish-red highlights in Maggie's hair, the glow of her skin and the perfect shape of her lips. Bianca smiles again and tenderly strokes away a loose strand of her dark hair that lingers on Maggie's fair face. At Bianca's touch, Maggie squirms, yawns and stretches back to life. She smiles at Bianca. Bianca smiles back.

"Good morning"

"Yes...it is."


	2. Chapter 2

**Maggie Makes a Friend**

In the middle of the afternoon Maggie walks through the university's registrar building, trying to decipher the signs that will direct her to the line where she can enroll in an introductory French class. The halls are abuzz with registration staff and lines of eager and frantic applicants; new students registering for summer pre-requisite courses so that they will be eligible to begin their majors in the Fall and returning students hoping to complete last minute credits so that they can graduate on time.

"Où est la ligne pour le cour 'les sciences purs et appliquées'?"

Maggie responds to the tap on her shoulder and to the question with one of the few French words that she can pronounce properly, "Pardon?"

"La linge pour le cour de science?"

"No comprend," Maggie desperately answers. "Anglais only."

"Une Americaine?"

"Oui!" Maggie says.

"Uh, I look for register science?" the woman says with a thick French accent making her best attempt to speak English but pronouncing the last word like 'sceance'.

"Science?" Maggie asks.

The woman nods.

"I think it's down the hall, but I can barely read the signs."

"You look for what?"

"French classes."

"We look together, oui?" the woman says as she hooks Maggie by the arm. "On y va."

Through the throng of students, the kind stranger drags Maggie along and helps her read the signs. She identifies one of the shorter lines as the one Maggie is looking for along with all the other foreign language speakers registering for French. Unfortunately, Maggie's guide is registering for a highly coveted course. Maggie waves good-bye to the stranger asshe walks to the end of a line so long it extends down the hall.

Thirty minutes later, Maggie proudly leaves the registrar building with her course confirmation slip in hand.

"'Français langue seconde pour non-francophones'," Maggie reads the slip aloud. "I guess that's me."

Three months since the move to Paris, Maggie is content with the satisfaction that she is taking one of many first steps to embarking on her new life. She knows that the other steps, medical school and her relationship with Bianca, are going to take a lot more than a confirmation slip to kick start but learning a new language was the safest place to begin. Maggie takes a campus map and spends the rest of the afternoon exploring the grounds in order to become familiar with the names of buildings, their location, and where her class will be in a few weeks.

"L'Americain!"

Maggie looks around to see where the call is coming from and smiles when she sees the helpful stranger quicken her step to catch up.

"La linge était si longue. J'ai pensé que -"

"Whoa, slow down. I don't know what you're saying. No comprend."

"'Je ne comprend pas'," the woman says slowly. "Répetez."

"Repeat? Okay," Maggie says. "Je...ne...comprend...pas."

"Bon. I teach you more. We go café, oui?" the woman says extending the crook of her arm for Maggie to take hold.

"Oui," Maggie says, delighted. "We go café."

"Comment-appelle tu?" the stranger asks.

"I think you're asking what my name is. It's Maggie. And you, what's your name?"

"CeCe," she says. "Enchantez."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sleeping Arrangements**

"Oh!" Maggie says, surprised at Bianca's sudden entrance into the kitchen. It is early afternoon. "I wasn't expecting you to still be here. Coffee?"

Maggie is still in her sleepwear; braless, wearing a white cotton tank-top and girl boxer shorts. Bianca wears a satin black robe that compliments her dark hair.

"I have a teleconference in the States that starts at 9 am their time so I don't have to be in the office until 1 or 2 to prep for it," Bianca explains. "I so needed the extra sleep, anyway. I think Miranda has a tooth coming in. She kept me up all night."

"I heard the wailing."

"Thanks a lot for coming to help," Bianca says sarcastically. "What's your excuse for sleeping in?"

Maggie recalls her latest Jonathon nightmare; it was the bloody one this time, the one where he takes the slap too far.

"I had other things keeping me up all night," Maggie mumbles as she takes a sip of coffee.

"What?" Bianca asks, uncertain if she heard Maggie correctly.

"I was just catching up on sleep. I, uh, I came in late last night. Have you ever walked through the quartier Belleville? It's really quaint, lots of parks, sculpture gardens," Maggie says doing her best to avoid a conversation that she really does not want to have. "Besides, I'm only meeting CeCe later this afternoon for my weekly etude in French. She's really giving me a head start on my classes that start next month. "

"I could give you French lessons," Bianca deadpans with just a hint of a leer on her face. Her eyes linger on various parts of Maggie's barely clothed body.

"Thanks, but," Maggie says amused by the suggestive implication. "Something tells me that your lessons wouldn't involve too much speaking."

Bianca shrugs her shoulders and sheepishly smiles. They drink their coffees as Bianca reads the French newspaper and Maggie does her best to pick out words that Cece has taught her.

"Maggie?" Bianca asks. "Is everything all right?"

"Ya," Maggie says unconvincingly, not taking her eyes off the paper.

"Well, I'm not exactly going to pretend that I didn't just hear you say that you couldn't sleep last night."

"You know, probably for the same reason you couldn't; Miranda, her tooth," Maggie says dismissively, still not looking at Bianca.

Bianca gently lifts Maggie's chin so that she is forced to look into Bianca's eyes.

"Maggie, I know you better than that. Please...talk to me."

Maggie sighs heavily and takes a deep breath.

"He comes at night when I sleep in there," Maggie says, gesturing toward the guest room.

"Who?"

"Jonathon. He's in my dreams; 'nightmares' is more accurate."

"Since when? How long?"

Maggie reluctantly answers, "Since we came here."

"That's horrible, Maggie," Bianca says, tenderly touching Maggie's face. "I wish you would have told me. It's hard enough adjusting to all this change, but having your past come back to haunt you must be unbearable."

"That's why I take long walks at night, come home late. I figure, if I sleep late enough, I'll be too tired to dream or there won't be enough hours in the night to dream. But it never works. I don't think I've had a good night's sleep since the move. I feel like he's always there, always this close to hurting me. I mean, the only time I sleep through the night is when..."

"When, I occasionally find you in my bed in the morning?" Bianca asks. Maggie quickly averts her gaze back down to her coffee cup. Bianca continues, "You know that you're always welcome to sleep in my room. I didn't want to mention it because I thought it was off limits until, you know, you work out your stuff about us."

Maggie sighs.

"Maggie...I'd really like," Bianca says, thoughtfully pausing before she continues. "I really want you to start sleeping in my room, with me, all the time. I know that this place feels so 'Erica', an extension of the 'Kane estate', but you need to stop acting like a guest and start being who you really are to me even if we don't have a name for it."

"I just need," Maggie says as she rubs her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair. "More time."

"Time? We've been here for four months. What more-" Bianca stops herself, recognizing that she is losing her patience. "Okay, you're right. This is exactly what we agreed upon - exactly what I signed up for - that it would happen when you were ready. Take all the time you need. All the time in the world. I'm going to get ready."

As Bianca leaves the kitchen, not even trying to disguise her heavy-footed retreat, Maggie lays her head on the table and watches helplessly as Bianca disappears down the hall.

* * *

Later that night in the guest room, Bianca is a welcome sight in Maggie's dream. Sneaking in, removing her robe and crawling into bed with her, Maggie willingly and passionately accepts what Bianca has to offer. They hug, kiss, and touch in a way Maggie has never known but wants to feel over and over again; Bianca is more than eager to comply. Maggie is intoxicated by Bianca's smell, the weight and softness of Bianca's voluptuous breasts against her own, and the sensation of Bianca's tongue on parts of Maggie's body where she's never had a tongue explore before until...

Under the sheet that covers her and Bianca, who disappears below, Maggie feels a strange roughness on her belly; the harshness of an unshaven face, a stubbly beard, sloppy lips. She calls out Bianca's name as a question, but there is no answer. And because dreams obliterate sound, no one can hear Maggie scream as Jonathan's threatening face suddenly emerges from under the covers.

Maggie stands shivering in her night wear beside Bianca's bed not remembering to throw on her robe or even remembering how she got there - down the hall from the guest room - so quickly. She takes her usual spot on her side of the bed, away from Bianca, draws the covers and falls into a restful deep sleep.

Some time before dawn, when the moon is still high in the sky and the sun struggles to rise, Bianca rolls over in her bed and breathes in a familiar sweet scent. Bianca gradually awakens to the realization that she is pressed against Maggie's sleep-warm back. They are both lightly clothed and Bianca revels in the heat and softness of her exposed skin against Maggie's and in the parts of Maggie's body that press into hers; a feeling that Bianca has been longing to have for years. Bianca's heart skips a beat. She knows that, for her own good, she should move away, create a safe, platonic distance between her and Maggie. But she can't. A mad, stirring restlessness inside of her keeps her frozen in place, laying there for what seems like hours. She is unable to negotiate with her rationale and slowly feels herself succumbing to her latent desires. Bianca's breath quickens. Maggie's smell permeates every aspect of Bianca's senses like a drug induced high. And when Bianca opens her eyes she does everything in her power not to caress the base of Maggie's neck, which is mere inches from Bianca's lips.

"BZZ! BZZ! BZZ! BZZ!"

Bianca practically jumps out of her skin at the sound of the alarm clock and regains enough of her composure to roll over to her side of the bed and turn it off. The vulgar green numbers on the display read six-thirty. Bianca has just enough time to get ready and make it to her eight o'clock meeting.

"What time is it?" Maggie mumbles, groggy with sleep.

"It's too early," Bianca whispers. "Go back to sleep, okay."

Maggie rolls over to see Bianca putting on her robe and getting out of bed.

"Where are you going?" Maggie asks.

"To take a shower," Bianca responds, not daring to look into Maggie's vulnerable, tired eyes. "A cold one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Lessons**

Cecelia indicates the placement of her tongue on the roof of her mouth and commands to Maggie, "En fin, fais la langue comme ça: 'rrrr'."

In the study, Maggie and Cecelia sit facing each other on the same side of a large, dark-wood desk as Cecelia fine-tunes Maggie's French pronunciation and articulation. It is late in the afternoon, almost dinner time, when Maggie realizes that they have been at this for over an hour. Cecelia is frustrated with her student. Maggie is agitated. The early evening twighlight begins to dim the study so Maggie creates a distraction by standing up and turning on all the Tiffany lamps.

"I can't do it," Maggie whines. "I just can't do it. You have to be born with the 'rrrr' gene in order to make that sound."

"Impossible!" Cecelia exclaims, shaking her head. "You speak like, how you say...tu as trop bu."

"What?"

Cecelia points to the bottle of wine that they have almost finished drinking and mimics putting it to her mouth. She then rolls her eyes back and slithers off her seat onto the floor. Maggie bursts out laughing, holding her sides to keep from splitting at the seams. Cecelia sits back on the chair, regaining her teacher-like composure.

"Thanks a lot," Maggie manages to say between guffaws. She sits back down in front of Cecelia.

"Encore une fois," Cecelia says as she holds Maggie's chin and jaw in the palms of her hands. "Rrrr."

"Lrrl?" Maggie gargles in response.

"Comme un lion, 'rrrr'."

"I can't," Maggie pleads.

"Non, non, non 'can't'. Oui, you can," Cecelia encourages gently squeezing Maggie's jaw. "Encore."

Maggie grimaces with frustration but before she's attempts the dreaded pronunciation again, Cecelia starts laughing.

"What's so funny?" Maggie asks, both embarrassed and annoyed that Cecelia is mocking her.

"La figure," Cecelia says, her laughter subsiding to a warm, genteel smile.

"My face?"

"Your face, mouth, eyes. Oui, c'est les yeux. It make me think my friend," Cecelia says as she ever so slightly turns Maggie's head from side to side. She continues nostalgically, "My good friend she move to America with the husban'. It has 4 years. Elle ma manque."

"Manque?"

"Comment dire? You want be close to someone, but no possible."

"You miss her."

"Oui, I miss her," Cecelia says, then smiles. "But now, I have you."

And as Cecelia holds Maggie's face, stroking her cheek with a coaxing thumb, Maggie suddenly realizes that this is the first time she has really looked at Cecelia since they met almost three months ago. She is jarred by the greenish-hazel hue of Cecelia's eyes, by her slightly olive complexion, and by the way her long, black wavy hair frames her face and falls heavily on her shoulders. Maggie swallows away the lump in her throat.

"Cece," Maggie says nervously. "I need to tell you some-"

"Maggie," Bianca says as she walks into the study and sees a dark-haired woman caressing Maggie's face.

"Bianca! " Maggie exclaims surprised. "I didn't hear you come in."

Cecelia smiles at Bianca and casually releases her hold on Maggie's face.

"Bianca, this is - Oh! I should practice," Maggie says to Cecelia who responds with a supportive nod. With a proud smile Maggie continues, "Bianca, permettez-moi de vous présenter mon amie - ma nouvelle amie - Cecelia. Cecelia, permettez-moi de vous présentez Bianca, ma co-loc."

"Enchantez," Cecelia replies as she nods at Bianca.

Bianca looks at Cecelia then back at Maggie and says, "Est-ce que la leçon a finis?"

"What?" Maggie asks perplexed.

"Uh, oui," Cecelia responds as she rapidly stands and nervously collects her books and bag. "I just was leaving."

Maggie looks about confused, at an irritated Bianca and at a hurried Cecelia who walks gingerly past Bianca out the front door. Bianca glares at her. Before the closing front door clicks shut, Maggie asks Bianca, "What did you say to her?"

"You introduced me as your roommate," Bianca says. "Is that all I am to you?"

"I thought you'd be impressed that I could say that entirely in French."

"Or am I only your roommate when she's around? Why is she around? Who is she?"

"Cecelia? CeCe? I talk about her all the time. She's helping me with my French and we're taking a couple of classes together this fall."

"You should at least let me know when someone's coming over," Bianca says as she attempts to hide her mild embarrassment. "I could have cleaned up last night or before I left this morning or...something."

"The place looks fine," Maggie says gesturing to the surroundings, then remembering a couple of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink and her hand-washed bra hanging on the shower rod in the bathroom. "Besides her studio is so small that this place looks like a mansion compared -"

"You've been to her apartment?"

"Yes, she lives in the quartier Belleville."

"Great!" Bianca says, exasperated.

"Okay, now you're freaking me out. What's wrong?"

"Oh, I don't know, I just walked in on some strange woman with her hands all over my -oh, how did you put it? - 'my roommate's' face. How am I supposed to react?"

"She was teaching me proper diction," Maggie explains. "Apparently, I sound like a drunk when I speak French."

"Apparently...," Bianca notices two partially finished glasses of red wine on the desk. She frowns.

"Bianca, its France that's what they do."

"You're right," Bianca throws her hands up. "You're right. I'm overreacting. I'm sorry. You just never told me she looked like that."

"Is that what this is all about?" Maggie laughs. "You think...I? ...her? You're working way too hard, Bianca."

"It's not funny," Bianca scolds, then pouts. "Look at me. Playing the jealous girlfriend. And frankly, I don't even know what you are to me or…what I am to you."

"You...," Maggie says as she interlaces her fingers with Bianca's, draws her closer, and looks deep into her dark brown eyes. "Are the best person that a girl could ever want in her life and no one could ever come between us. No one."

"Okay, you win," Bianca says as she suspiciously welcomes Maggie's full and delicious kiss. "You've successfully convinced me that I'm the only one. But, just let me know when you're having someone over."

"You mean when Cecelia's coming over," Maggie says, annoyed. "You know, the last time we lived together, I don't recall having to ask your permission before I invited someone to our place."

"You don't need my permission. I'm just asking you to consider how I feel. Maggie, if you didn't realize by now, this isn't Pine Valley. We knew everyone there. But here, you can't just bring strangers in off the street."

"Cecelia's not a stranger," Maggie says defensively. "She's my friend."

"Then my request shouldn't be such a big deal. Did you eat already? I'm starving."

"You're unbelievable. You are so jealously unbelievable."

"I am not - "

"Ah!" Maggie says raising a finger up to Bianca's lips to silence her. "You just admitted it, so don't even."

"It's just that I don't know her, okay. And it'll just take me some time to meet new people and to consider them friends…our friends."

"But you can't tell me who I can and can't be friends with."

"But I'm not."

Maggie turns away and mumbles, "You are such a Kane."

"What?"

"You're just like Erica. If something isn't going your way you just have to step in and control the entire situation before it controls you."

"How dare you! I admit, my mother could be a self-absorbed control freak who would stop at nothing to make everyone's life miserable especially if it meant maintaining her own happiness, but this is different."

"If the cap fits, Bianca -"

"I don't need to listen to this," Bianca says as she storms away. "Do whatever you want. Bring over a whole chorus of Can Can girls, see if I care."

Left in the study to brood, Maggie hears the front door slam behind her. And with the sound of the bang, Maggie tightly shuts her eyes not knowing whether to swear or to hit something.


	5. Chapter 5

**Making Up**

The barely audible knock on the guest room door startles Maggie. But it is a knock that she has been anxiously waiting to hear all night since Bianca stormed out of the apartment hours ago. Bianca doesn't need a response to enter; she opens the door. Every hair stands up on the back of Maggie's neck; she refuses to look at Bianca.

"For someone who's concerned about bringing home strangers off the street," Maggie says to Bianca who stands in the doorway behind her. "You spent an awful long time with them tonight."

"I took a walk," Bianca answers.

"Bring your phone next time," Maggie says attempting to mask her concern with a gentle scolding. "Anything could have happened."

"I'm sorry."

Maggie finally looks at Bianca. A weighty silence hangs between them. When their stare becomes unbearable, Maggie turns away and says, "It's okay. I knew you'd eventually come back...at some point."

"No, I mean...I'm sorry... about earlier," Bianca explains. "You're right. I have no right to tell you who you can and can't be friends with. This is your home too...I just...I was wrong."

"Do I need to remind you why I came here?" Maggie asks, facing Bianca, stepping towards her and taking Bianca's hands into her own. "Why I left everything I knew to come to a place where I can barely ask for directions? Why I spontaneously showed up on your plane with a passport but no clean change of underwear?"

Bianca bashfully smiles; her eyes glisten.

"Because of you...because of you, and...," Maggie says, pausing to think. "Because of you."

Bianca raises their enfolded hands up to her lips and kisses Maggie's.

"And I know that, I know that with all my heart," Bianca says. "It's just...when I saw her hands on your face like that it made so...so... How could she - she barely knows you - touch you in a way that I couldn't years ago when we first met. You flipped out on me."

"It was only because," Maggie says tentatively. "Your touching me, the look in your eyes and what I was feeling at the time, scared me to death. I didn't understand what was going on. But you meant more to me even then than I could have ever imagined."

"And now?" Bianca asks.

"So much more," Maggie answers into the deep brown of Bianca's eyes.

Bianca lowers her head and lifts Maggie's chin; their lips meet in the most tender and uninhibited kiss unmarred by years of doubt, questioning, and uncertainty. Maggie's heart beats a little faster and she loses her breath. None of their other kisses felt like this. Maggie virtually melts in Bianca's arms succumbing to her love for Bianca and to the relief of knowing that Bianca made it back home safely.

Bianca's head swims and her heart flutters along with another secret part of her body. She pulls Maggie by the waist to meet her own, a natural response to Bianca's need for the love of her life to comfort her and to sooth her ache; years of an excruciating yearning threaten to burst Bianca apart. The desire that rushes over from Bianca to Maggie makes her...

Bianca watches, stunned, as Maggie pulls away, crossing the room to create the biggest possible distance between them at a time when Bianca needs her to be so close.

"I can't...," Maggie stammers. "I-I don't know..."

"What is it?" Bianca begs. "Tell me, Maggie. What is it?"

"I want you...I really do," Maggie says. "To stay with me...here...tonight. To prove something. To prove that I'm trying my hardest to make this work."

"Yes, yes. Whatever you want," Bianca says. "I'll do whatever you want."

"No, but not like that," Maggie sighs, exasperated. "I want you to stay and to just hold me. Just be near me. That's all. Nothing more."

"That's all."

Maggie nods.

After a long, labored pause Bianca says, "I can't. I can't do this anymore. I just can't be your friend, your roommate or whatever, anymore. We've been playing this cat and mouse game for months now, years. There's something here between us. I feel it. I know it's not just my imagination and I know you feel it too. I need more...much more. I need you."

"I can't...don't you get it? I can't give you what you want," Maggie says. "I'm not... I've never done this before, okay. It scares me to think that I couldn't do the right thing, do it the right way. Make you, you know, happy."

"So I'll teach you. Maggie, you already make me happy. But imagine us? Together? It would just be an added bonus," Bianca says. " I'm scared too."

Maggie looks at Bianca questioningly.

"No matter how many times I may have done this," Bianca continues as she steps toward Maggie. "This moment, right now, or when ever it will be, still comes down to one thing: it will be my first time with you."

Bianca ever so lovingly cups Maggie's face in the palms of her hands, looks deep into her eyes and says, "Let me show you." Bianca's hands slowly descend down Maggie's face to her neck, shoulders, across her collarbones down to -

Maggie forcefully grabs Bianca's wrists. Bianca gasps. Then from between clenched teeth Maggie says, "I'm not Lena."

Shocked, disappointed and speechless, Bianca shakes her hands free of Maggie's grip and runs out of the room not daring to reveal the hurt in her eyes and the anguish in her face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bianca meets Carrington**

When Bianca walks into the boardroom she is only vaguely aware of the six - or eight - board members and consultants who sit on either side of the imposing black marble conference table. Bianca's focus is immediately drawn to the self-important figure that sits in the alpha seat at the head of the room. An attractive blond, hair tied back in a fiercely tight bun, wearing a black power suit, and a stern expression - or is it a snarl - examines Bianca from the top of her head to the tip of her heels. Then if that isn't enough to make Bianca's stomach wrench into a knot, the blond reverses the order of her pointed examination, which ends with her locking eyes with Bianca.

Bianca accepted the responsibility of being a presence at Cambias Industries to prove to herself that she was not too young, too naive or too inexperienced to handle the task. And if there is ever a moment that she needs to stand by her own conviction, it is now.

"Ms. Montgomery," the board chair says with a heavy French accent. "I present to you, Ms. Carrington, CEO of Carrington, Williams, & Shaw LLP."

Bianca extends her hand to Ms. Carrington and confidently says, "Your firm comes highly recommended as the 'go-to' people for resolving the issues that seem to be plaguing our division. We believe that you and your team will be able to turn it around in no time. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"We'll see about that," Ms. Carrington curtly answers. "Our goal here is to maintain Cambias Industries' status as a Fortune 500 company in the global economy and we can only do this by bringing this division from the dark ages into the 20th century."

"Don't you mean the 21st century?" Bianca interjects.

"Ms. Montgomery, my feasibility study revealed that nothing remarkable has happened in this division since the early eighties. We're talking about a division that is as current as a pair of acid wash jeans, large shoulder pads and big hair. If we can get it to the 20th century, it'll be because of my hard work and divine intervention. Getting it to this century? I'm a consultant Ms. Montgomery, not a magician. Lights please. Jean, cue the presentation."

An hour later, when the presentation is over, Ms. Carrington concludes, "If you decide to implement this idea, which I'm sure you will, my job here is done. I'll be back on a plane to the States and leave you with my team to execute the project. Any questions."

The board chair politely asks Ms. Carrington and her team to leave the room while they deliberate.

* * *

A half an hour later, the Carrington, Williams, & Shaw team is called back into the board room. 

Bianca clears her throat and says, "I am sure that the board agrees with me when I say that I am truly impressed with all the work and innovative ideas that went into your presentation and into the direction that you see for this division."

"However," Bianca says. The room is deathly quiet as Bianca clears her throat once again before she continues, "After further consideration, we don't believe that restructuring the executive department will offer the long term solution that we're looking for to sustain the division for the next Cambias generation."

Bianca has a fleeting vision of Miranda clapping her hands with pure glee after tossing a bowl of vegetable purée in Ms. Carrington's lap; an appropriate infant reaction to the presentation.

"Great," Ms. Carrington says sarcastically. "Ms. Montgomery, I look forward to reworking the whole idea with you. I'm sure you and your board will have a lot to contribute considering all of the years that this division has been allowed to fester towards its own demise. So given the length of time it took to develop this plan, I'll have my assistant call yours to schedule me into your life for the next seven months or so...if you're lucky."

Bianca's stomach rises into her throat as she envisions her board throwing her into a den of lions.


	7. Chapter 7

**Show Me**

"If I have to spend one more minute with that...that...shrew, my nerves will be completely shot," Bianca says as she walks into the kitchen where Maggie has her French lesson books strewn across the table. Bianca drops her briefcase on the floor, shakes her blazer off her shoulders and continues, "For the past few weeks that we've been meeting, she consistently proves herself to be impossibly annoying, unbelievably arrogant and just a regular pain in the...you know where. The only positive thing about her is that she doesn't actually spit fire when she opens her mouth."

"Hard day?" Maggie asks.

"Like you wouldn't believe. And to make it worse we may have to work together - or should I say, be at each other's throats - for the next six months."

"You know what I'm in the mood for right now?" Maggie says excitedly attempting to put a lighter spin on the conversation. "Moroccan. CeCe took me by this great restaurant where she works sometimes. We should go. They have great food and amazing live music with traditional Moroccan instruments and dancers. And, we get to stretch out on these big, comfy floor cushions instead of chairs. I think it'll cheer you up."

"I don't know. I'm so burnt out. I don't think I'm up for it."

"Would you be if I called it a date?"

Bianca raises her eyebrows.

"Where did you say we were going?" Bianca asks with an unabashed big smile.

* * *

A few hours later, after indulging in food, wine, and other festive cultural delights, they come into the apartment bursting with boisterous glee.

"Stop Maggie, you're making my sides hurt," Bianca says through the brief gasps of air that she manages to breath through her laughter.

"Maybe it's because you tried to belly dance right after you finished your third helping of food."

"How else was I supposed to work off all those calories?"

"You should have seen the look on that dancer's face when you stepped on his foot."

"Don't remind me."

"I thought you permanently put him out of a job."

Bianca laughs.

"Despite the attempted foot amputation," Maggie says endearingly. "You're a pretty good dancer."

"After the shock of my adolescent growth spurt, I figured that these legs should be good for something," Bianca says. "Thank you."

"You did all the dancing, I should be thanking you."

"No, I mean, thank you for tonight. For making me laugh and forget about my miserable day, for dinner, for... your invitation, for...your company, for your..."

The litany of reasons draw Maggie and Bianca closer together until their bodies touch and they embrace in a long tender hug. Maggie is the first to break the embrace.

"The night's not over. Come," Maggie says leading Bianca by the hand down the hall to the chaise longue in the salon.

Silently, she indicates that Bianca should sit down. She then disappears behind Bianca who asks, "What are you doing?" She is giddy with excitement.

Maggie positions herself on the other side of the chaise, with Bianca's back to her, and begins to massage the remaining tension out of Bianca's shoulders. Surprised and delighted, Bianca lets out a pleasure-filled moan as she luxuriates in the sensations that soothe and electrify her entire body.

"Wow, that's amazing," Bianca says in a dreamy, far away voice. She closes her eyes. "I should be doing this to you for taking me out."

"I'm not the one who had the hard day," Maggie says.

"But-"

"But, shhh," Maggie whispers.

Maggie concentrates on every pressure point she that applies to Bianca's shoulders, back and upper arms. At first Maggie's fingers appear to rebound off every tight muscle it encounters. But with a few minutes of gentle prodding, Bianca's muscles soften and relax. Bianca can barely maintain her stature as her shoulders begin to slump under Maggie's hypnotic touch.

"Bianca?" Maggie asks.

"Mmm?"

"Show me."

Bianca's eyes fly open and nervously search about the room.

"Wh-What are saying?" she asks Maggie.

"Show me. I want to learn."

Bianca slowly turns her head around until her eyes meet Maggie's. She is jarred by how intensely Maggie holds the gaze.

"I want to learn," Maggie repeats.

Bianca straddles the chaise, she takes Maggie's hand and invites her to do the same. Seated and facing each other, Bianca looks deep into Maggie's gentle brown eyes searching for doubt, fear, insecurity; any small hint that Maggie will change her mind. She strokes Maggie's hair off her shoulders away from her face. Maggie takes Bianca's hand and places it in the center of her chest. And when Bianca feels the rapid, irregular beat of Maggie's heart in the palm of her hand, Bianca knows that Maggie means it. As her own heart starts to race, Bianca says, "You...are so...beautiful."

Maggie lifts Bianca's hand to her lips, first kissing Bianca's palm, then the tips of each and every one of her fingers. Bianca is paralyzed in awe. Maggie gently pulls at Bianca's hand coaxing her forward and when she is close enough, Maggie places her lips on Bianca's. They dwell in the bliss of tender, soft lips, delicate tongues, and mouths flavored with sweet and tangy Moroccan spices and wine. Their kiss is slow, careful, thoughtful, curious and deep. Maggie savors every sensation of this moment while Bianca contains her long-suppressed need to have more.

And when the touching begins, they never relinquish their kiss. Bianca cups Maggie's face in the palms of her hand; her fingertips create fine thin strokes along Maggie's jaw. She continues the same motion down the sides of Maggie's neck, stopping for a moment to run her fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Maggie's neck. She loves the way Maggie's shoulders soften at her touch yet the tone in Maggie's upper arms attests to a strength that Bianca anticipates experiencing...one day. Bianca reaches around to Maggie's back where she applies a gentle massage. When she slides her hands to Maggie's waist, Bianca is fascinated by how slight it is. She feels like the tips of her fingers will almost touch at Maggie's back and her thumbs on Maggie's stomach. With a quickening breath, Bianca slowly glides her hands up Maggie's stomach heeding to the temptation of another part of Maggie's body that beacons Bianca's attention.

Maggie welcomes Bianca exploring her body. Her pores awaken to the touch of a woman, to the touch of this woman, Bianca. It is delicate yet persistent, soft but demanding, curious yet knowing. It sends shivers down her back, delivers tingles to her shoulders and upper arms, and releases butterflies in her stomach. But when she feels a gentle pressure on her breasts and the response of her nipples to the delicate strokes across them, Maggie gasps for air as her head lightens, she breaks into a sweat, and she loses herself in a way that she's only known with a man.

Bianca stops touching Maggie and whispers, "Are you okay?"

Bianca is so overcome with her own sensual feelings that her eyes are watery. Their foreheads touch as they try to catch their breaths.

"Ya, um, ya," Maggie manages to eek out. She mouths the word 'wow' and Bianca agrees by doing the same. They quietly laugh. Bianca bites her bottom lip and goes in for another kiss. Maggie places her finger to Bianca lips to stop her. Bianca takes Maggie's finger in her mouth.

"I, uh, I think I've learned enough for now," Maggie whispers. She reluctantly takes her finger back stroking Bianca's lip one last time before she does. "I'm going to, uh, bed."

Bianca does not need to ask Maggie which room she will sleep in. She already knows. Bianca watches Maggie leave the room and stretches out on the chaise longue. She closes her eyes and submerges into the memory and sensations of what just happened.

On this night, Jonathon doesn't appear. In fact, the little sleep that Maggie does get in the guest room is dreamless.

* * *

The next morning, when Bianca lifts her head off her pillow, she is surprised yet pleased to see her friend sitting at the cushioned window seat in her bedroom looking out onto the court yard. With every breath that Maggie takes, Bianca records the way that she sits, the bend of her legs, the curve in her waist, the angle of her back, the subtly changing color of her hair as the sunlight hits it, the color of her tank top and how it brings out her eyes. Her eyes. She wants to see them again. Especially the way they looked last night; like they wanted her, needed her. 

"Hey," Bianca says softly, tenderly.

Maggie's head turns so quickly as she stands up at the same time like she was expecting - waiting - to be summoned at any moment. Slightly embarrassed by her overzealous response, Maggie sits back down, crossing one leg under her.

"What are doing in here?" Bianca asks.

"Waiting."

"Come here," Bianca says.

Instead of going to her side of the bed, Maggie sits in the small space between its edge and Bianca.

"Are you okay?" Bianca asks.

"Ya."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Maggie says with emphasis. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"How long?"

"I don't know...an hour...two," Maggie says with a yawn.

"You could have come back here," Bianca says referring to her bedroom. "You know, after."

Maggie looks away from Bianca.

"I'm sorry," Bianca says. "Give me an inch and I ask for a mile, right?"

"I couldn't sleep."

Bianca waits for Maggie to continue.

"I just lay there all night," Maggie says as she rubs her eyes trying to stay awake. "I couldn't stop thinking about what happened, about what we did, about how I felt about doing what we did."

"Great. So, this is when you tell me that it freaked you out, right?"

"Bianca - "

"No, even better. You're completely grossed out and you need time to get over it."

"Bianca?"

"And now you want to move into the Cambias suite at the hotel after all."

"Bianca! Stop it!"

"What?"

"I couldn't sleep because...I missed you."

Bianca's eyes open wide.

"I felt things that I've never felt before. I felt things...better than I've felt before. I feel different this morning. Like I just shed off a layer of skin and revealed a whole new me."

Maggie yawns and nonchalantly lies on the bed resting her head on the pillow that Bianca had slept on. Bianca shifts slightly toward the center to create a little more room and tenderly looks at her.

"What am I?" Maggie asks looking up at Bianca.

"You are a beautiful woman who I'm hopelessly in love with."

"I'm a woman who's," Maggie says as she yawns and closes her eyes. "Hopelessly tired."

For that moment, as Bianca lovingly gazes at Maggie who drifts off to sleep, nothing else exists. She covers Maggie with a sheet, lightly kisses her and leaves the bed. Bianca floats on air as she walks from her room to check on Miranda, confident that everything is going to be all right.


	8. Chapter 8

**Show Me…Again**

"This is driving me crazy," Maggie says to herself just as Bianca walks by the dining room. It is late in the evening when Bianca comes home from work to find Maggie holding her head in her hands, strands of hair jutting out between her fingers, as she looks over some textbooks and notes.

"What are you working on?" Bianca asks.

"Reflexive verbs," Maggie says as she pushes her chair back from the table. "When did you come in?"

"Oh, I don't know, some time after you started talking to yourself but before you started pulling your hair out."

"That is definitely coming next. Tell me that your day was better than mine."

"If you can count meeting with Carrington for an one hour instead of two a good day, then mine was fantastic. I think she's warming up to me though."

"Really?"

"Yes, she managed to say only three disparaging remarks to me today and only one of them was in front of a board member who happened to walk into my office at that moment. At least she didn't deliberately make the remark in front of him like she usually does."

"How many more months do you have to work wit her?"

"Too many. Five and a half months and counting. Right until spring, aaagrh, if I make it that far. How was your day?"

"I'm worried about taking this science class that starts in two weeks. After reading the syllabus, I realized that I've done this course before at PVU. But I can't imagine how I'm going to pass this med school pre-req when all my lectures, exams, labs and papers will be in French."

"I thought Cecelia was giving you extra help," Bianca says, doing her best to sound supportive but not spiteful.

"She is and she's been wonderful. In fact we'll be in the same class. But there's a certain amount of learning that I just have to get on my own. This is my third and last French class before the Fall semester opens. I don't know what I'm going to do. My pre-req is going to be a pre-wreck."

"First of all, you're going to calm down. Second, you're going to believe me when I tell you that you're going to be fine. You're too hard on yourself. I'm sure you know a lot more than you think. Third, I'm an expert with reflexive verbs. Let's see."

Bianca pulls up a chair beside Maggie and says, "Think about all the things that you do to yourself like brushing your teeth, combing your hair or sleeping."

"How about sabotaging myself out of med school."

Bianca shakes her head then continues, "There are a specific set of verbs that only express actions that you do to yourself or involve clothing."

"Now that I can understand."

"So give me an example in English."

Maggie thinks then says, "How about getting dressed?"

"Exactly. To get dressed is 'habiller' so just put a 'me' in front of it to make it about your getting dressed, 'm'habiller'."

"Oh, I get it, just put a 'me' in front of the verb to make it about me and what I'm doing to myself. Wow, you just taught me in seconds what I've spent the last few days trying to understand."

"I offered to give you French lessons months ago but you turned me down, remember?" Bianca says with a mischievous grin.

"I think I had a good reason to then but now, je veux que tu me montre," Maggie says proudly.

"Good try, but not exactly. 'Montrer', to show, is something that you do to something or someone else so it's actually not reflexive. You could say, 'Montre-moi'."

"Alors," Maggie says as she places Bianca's hand on her belly. "Montre-moi."

Bianca looks at her hand, then she looks up at Maggie. Bianca is not surprised to find that look in Maggie's eye.

"Are you trying to weasel your way out of a lesson?" Bianca asks suspiciously.

"Maybe," Maggie answers. "Or maybe I'm trying to weasel my way into a lesson."

Bianca fingers the soft smooth cotton of Maggie's shirt, a sensation that makes Maggie suddenly feel flushed and hot.

"Do you actually think that you can entice me, your teacher, into letting you do so?" Bianca asks.

"I might be."

Bianca's fingers find their way under Maggie's shirt where she encounters warm, pliant skin.

"Is this okay?" Bianca asks.

Maggie nods yes. She shivers but does not know if it is from fear or from anticipation.

With her fingertips, Bianca touches Maggie's stomach ever so lightly, which causes Maggie to flinch. Bianca stops and peers into Maggie's face.

"It's okay," Maggie says reassuringly. "It's okay."

She breathlessly kisses Bianca with each 'okay'. Bianca accepts each caress as an invitation to continue touching her, to continue kissing her, to continue making Maggie's breath come faster. The skin under Maggie's shirt is clammy and warm to the touch; her stomach muscles toned and her bellybutton shallow. In one swift motion, Bianca lifts Maggie's shirt off her stomach, from under her arms and over her head and lets it drop from her hand to the floor. The sight of Maggie's milky white skin and the smooth, soft mounds that protrude from her bra make Bianca dizzy. Maggie looks at Bianca like a deer caught in headlights both stunned by her sudden bareness and amazed by the torrent of emotions she feels inside.

With care and concern, Bianca frantically searches Maggie's eyes and asks, "Are you sure this-"

Bianca's question is abruptly cut short as Maggie nervously unbuttons Bianca's blouse. Like discovering a long lost treasure for the first time, Maggie slowly peels the fabric off Bianca's shoulders revealing silky white skin and a pair of voluminous breasts neatly tucked away in a black satin bra. The blouse falls to the floor. With tentative, trembling fingers, Maggie touches the satin, fully present to how warm it feels, to how easily her fingers glide over it and to how supple the fabric is. With their foreheads touching, Maggie closes her eyes and indulges in the little bit of heaven under her fingertips. As their hands explore each other's bodies, neither Maggie nor Bianca can discern the other's breath as it comes out faster and harder in the small space between them.

"I've always wanted you, Bianca," Maggie says taking Bianca's face into her hands and kissing her with fervor and longing. "I've wanted you since I confessed my feelings to you years ago."

"Then please have me," Bianca whispers. "Take what you want."

Maggie climbs onto Bianca's lap, her legs straddle either side of the chair. She is so light, but weighs just enough for Bianca to feel her in all the right places. Bianca holds Maggie tightly, gripping her lower back and pressing their bodies together so that their naked bellies touch and their bras glide against each other. Maggie holds the back of Bianca's head unwilling to let go for fear she may drown in her own want, her own need and in Bianca's desire. They breathe heavily into each other's mouths; their noses brush. They buoy in a sea of passion supplying each other with the only resuscitation they need to survive; their breaths, their lives, each other.

"I'm scared, Bianca," Maggie whispers breathlessly in Bianca's ear, her voice catching on the onslaught of feelings that course through her. "I'm so scared"

Taking Maggie's warm, sweaty face in her own clammy hands, Bianca says, "I love you, Maggie. You tell me when and I'll stop. I don't want to hurt you."

Something in what Bianca says suddenly jogs Maggie's memory.

"No one's ever made me feel this way and no one ever will. I don't want to lose you. I can't live without you," Bianca continues. "I'd never hurt you."

And like déja vu, Maggie hears the echo of Jonathan's voice over Bianca's. Those fateful, meaningless words that Jonathan said to her after his hand made unrelenting and unforgiving contact with her face. Words she thought she had laid to rest once she left Pine Valley; words that have haunted her in her dreams. But now, they come back to her like a retched corpse extricated from a long buried crypt.

"No!" Maggie yells. "Stop! Don't say that. Don't ever say that."

Bianca watches helplessly as Maggie flies from her and runs out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

**Night Out**

"What's this?" Maggie asks in response to the folded slip of paper that Bianca hands to her as they pass each other in the hallway; Bianca on her way to the kitchen to get her morning coffee and Maggie, back to the guest room to get dressed.

"Our date," Bianca says. "Tonight."

Intrigued, Maggie opens the paper and reads the word 'Cachée' underlined with an address and 'quartier Marais' written underneath.

"Our date is at a place called 'Hide'?" Maggie asks.

"Uh huh," Bianca says mischievously. "Actually, it's 'Hidden'."

"As in, to conceal something."

"Uh huh."

"Which you're doing a pretty good job of right now."

"Uh huh."

"The mystery is killing me."

"By the way," Bianca says. "Since you'll be meeting me right after your evening class, you'll need to bring a change of clothes, you know, for the setting."

"Which is...," Maggie says. "You're not giving me too much to work with here."

Bianca thinks for a moment before she responds, "Dark, mysterious and classy. I'll see you at nine. Sharp."

* * *

Later that evening after class, Cecelia invites Maggie to get changed at her apartment in quartier Belleville since it is a short commute to quartier Marais. 

"Voyons donc," Cecelia says impatiently. "Sortir pour que je peux vous voir."

"All right, all right," Maggie says from behind the closed bathroom door. "Une minute, juste une minute."

Cecelia looks at her watch and says, "You be late."

The lock clicks open and Cecelia waits with bated breath for Maggie to finally emerge from the bathroom where she's been secluded for about half an hour.

"Magnifique," Cecelia gasps, holding her hand up to her mouth. "Formidable. Très BCBG."

"BCBG?" Maggie asks as she assesses herself in Cecelia's full length mirror.

"Bon chic, bon goût."

Maggie agrees as she admires the way the black, knee-length wrap-around dress hugs and accentuates her slight figure. The tie at the waist and low v-neck emphasizes the little cleavage that she has while her short legs appear to lengthen in her black heels. During the battle of deciding whether to put her hair up or to leave it down, she opted to let it hang long, sweep over her shoulders and across her forehead, slightly covering one eye. With one final turn in the mirror, that makes her dress flare out, Maggie is satisfied with what she sees and she knows Bianca will be too.

"Chanceux," Cecelia says dreamily.

"Who's lucky?" Maggie asks noting that Cecelia uses the masculine form of the word 'lucky'.

"The person you meet tonight," Cecelia says.

"Oui, chanceuse," Maggie says using the correct female form of 'lucky'.

"Aaah," Cecelia says, annoyed. "All the lessons and your French is still bad."

Maggie smiles to herself.

* * *

Quartier Marais bustles with Friday night activity as Maggie makes her way down the street noted on her slip of paper; couples walk arm in arm, students huddle and laugh together surrounded by wisps of cigarette smoke, terrasses are packed with seated customers. When she gets to the address where 'Cachee' should be, she sees a numberless, orange-brown rusted industrial steel door recessed in an unassuming gray, chipped concrete wall. It looks like a delivery entrance that hasn't been used in years. 

"She must have given me the wrong address," Maggie says to herself.

As she walks further down the street hoping to see a sign blazoned with the word 'Cachee', she calls Bianca's cell. There is no answer. There is no sign.

"What have you gotten me into, Bianca," Maggie says to the incessant ringing on the other end of the line. She clicks the phone closed.

Maggie walks back in the direction from where she came just to make sure that she didn't actually pass the location. She feels alone, lost and a little anxious in the limelight of this trendy neighborhood when she notices something peculiar. From a distance, she sees a well-dressed man approach the decrepit door, however just when she thinks that he has also been directed to the wrong location, he disappears. A moment later, Maggie stops in her tracks as she watches two fabulously dressed women walk to the same door then disappear. Maggie scurries back to the door, her heels clicking on the pavement.

"Hello?" Maggie says as she knocks loudly on the rusty door. "Bonjour?"

The door slowly opens and Maggie cautiously steps into a dark, closet-sized room. It takes a minute for Maggie's eyes to adjust to how dim it is, but it only takes a her a few seconds to realize that she is not alone.

"Avez vous une reservation?" a tall model-like, bronzed-skinned woman with a curly brown and blond afro asks. She holds a small computerized writing tablet in her hand.

"Oui, Montgomery," Maggie answers.

The hostess opens a pair of heavy, blood-red silk curtains, that Maggie assumed was a wall, into another world; a dark upscale dinner lounge that is only dimly lit by a smattering of red and yellow lights in wall sconces and by opaque glass orbs centered on dinner tables that emit a bluish hue from the candles that burn inside of them. Subtle aromas of designer perfume, foreign cigarettes and expensive cigars waft through the space and the warm sounds of mellow jazz emanate from a DJ booth located in a corner of the lounge near a small dance floor. The hostess seats Maggie at one of the several posh, semi-circle dining booths that line the walls and face toward the center of the lounge. Maggie absorbs all of the ambiance and glamour this space exudes; impeccably dressed couples dining on exquisite entrées and sharply dressed single men and women drinking the fancy cocktail mixes at the bar.

Maggie calls Bianca again. There is still no answer.

"Votre boisson, madamoiselle," a waiter says to Maggie as he places a cocktail in front of her.

Maggie looks around confused and says, "I didn't order anything."

"Excuse me," the waiter says in a heavy French accent. "The drink is compliment from guest."

"Who?" Maggie asks.

"The guest wishes to remain anonymous."

When the waiter leaves Maggie looks about the room to see if any of the good looking men in the lounge is making eye contact with her. No one appears to be but the room is so dim that it is difficult for Maggie to tell. She does however recognize the tall, slim dark-haired woman following the hostess through the lounge. She's wearing black knee-high leather boots and a dark brown, tweed skirt. Her sleeveless, form fitting cowl-neck top accentuates the curve of her waist and the ample cleavage that lies below the low dipping neckline. As she walks behind the hostess, winding through the dining tables, Bianca notices Maggie's fresh and familiar face. She smiles trying to contain her excitement at seeing her friend looking so dressed up and beautiful. The hostess shows Bianca to her booth but, before she walks away, she gives Bianca a very intent head to toe once-over.

"Hi," Bianca says as she slides in the seat beside Maggie and gives her a customary French greeting; a kiss on each cheek. "So what do think?"

"This place is beautiful," Maggie answers. "These people are gorgeous. I feel like I've walked into an haute couture design studio. I'm glad you kept it a secret. It makes it even more special."

Bianca reaches across the table, affectionately interlocks her fingers with Maggie's and says, "I especially like it because we can be ourselves here."

Feeling uncomfortable with even this innocuous display of public affection, Maggie withdraws her hand.

Bianca realizes why Maggie is apprehensive and laughs saying, "I don't think you have anything to worry about in here. Look."

Bianca gestures to two women canoodling in a booth a few feet away. With heads together, they giggle, flirt, feed each other bite-sized appetizers and share a sensual kiss. Maggie's heart jumps; she is alarmed by the unabashed and open affection that the women express.

When Maggie looks back at Bianca, she is distracted by another couple seated at the neighboring booth. The impeccably dressed young man has the most boyish-smooth face that Maggie has ever seen. His hair is cropped short, his cheeks are ruddy and he looks a whole decade younger than the lovely woman he is seated with. Their hands touch on the table and they appear to be engaged in an intimate conversation.

"Now that's a real Demi-Ashton romance," Maggie says gesturing inconspicuously to the couple behind Bianca.

Bianca looks over her shoulder, then back at Maggie and says with a smirk, "More like Ellen and Portia."

Maggie gives Bianca a questioning look.

"Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet?" Bianca asks.

"Figured out wh-," Maggie says just as another pair of women walk by holding hands. Then, she notices a man leading another man by the hand to the dance area where the DJ now plays slow, romantic bossa nova. "Oh."

"Surprised?" Bianca asks.

"I've never been in a place like this."

"Me neither. But I wanted to try something different, something daring, something new. A place where we fit in for a change."

"Bianca, that's great. It's great...for you. After all, we are in 'gay Paree'," Maggie says. "But I don't exactly know if I fit in."

"Welcome to my entire life."

"Mademoiselles," the waiter interrupts. "Êtes-vous prèt à commander?"

Picking up the menu and taking a long, serious look at it, Bianca says, "She'll have an entrée of courage and I'll have a healthy serving of patience."

"Pardon?" the waiter asks perplexed.

Bianca lifts her eyes off the menu and looks at Maggie. They laugh.

* * *

After their three-course meal, a shared dessert and coffees, Bianca and Maggie find a quiet moment to stare into each other's eyes. 

"I hope you don't hate me for bringing you here," Bianca says.

"Of course not," Maggie says reassuringly, putting her hand on Bianca's. "This place. You. You look radiant. It's been wonderful. Really. Different, but wonderful. I'm just happy we're together. I couldn't ask for anything more"

Bianca suddenly finds herself blushing as she tries to maintain her focus on Maggie.

"What?" Maggie asks.

Bianca bites her bottom lip and smiles.

"What?" Maggie asks again, more curious than before.

"I want to kiss you," Bianca says, her brown eyes smoky and intense. "I really want to kiss you."

"Bonsoir, mademoiselles," a voice breaks through the tension between Bianca and Maggie. They turn their attention to a tall, slim young woman with attractive angular features, hazel eyes and auburn hair tied back in a bun. She wears a pinstriped tailored Chanel pant suit without a blouse - nor bra! Bianca notices - that reveals a delectable but inoffensive amount of cleavage.

"Désolé pour vous interromprer," the woman continues, directing her attention to Maggie. "Mais, je veux vous inviter à danser, s'il vous plaît."

Maggie is about to answer but Bianca says, with a hint of discontent, "Elle ne plait pas. Nous sommes ensembles."

"Pardon," the woman says with an air of snobbery. "Je n'aurais jamais su."

Just as the woman is about to walk away, she turns to Maggie and says, "J'éspère que vous avez aimé le cocktail."

When the woman is out of earshot, Bianca asks Maggie, "She bought you a drink?"

"Someone did when I first came in," Maggie explains. "I just assumed that it was one of the guys. But in here, that would be highly unlikely...unless one of the guys was actually a girl."

"Well it's a good thing I showed up when I did. She seemed very interested in you."

"Not as interested as the hostess appears to be in you," Maggie says. When they both look at the hostess on the other side of the room, she winks at Bianca.

"I guess that would explain why we have the best booth and view in here. She took my reservation when I came by here the other day. I needed to make sure it would be the perfect place for our date."

"Well it is," Maggie says. They gaze into each other's eyes.

"Listen, our uninvited visitor gave me an idea," Bianca says as she takes hold of Maggie's hand. "Let's dance."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, come on. Please?"

Just at that moment, the DJ plays a slow, English-language song sung by a woman with a slight French accent. It's lyrics and melody float in the air like an appropriate backdrop to Bianca and Maggie's entire relationship.

"I guess it would be kind of lame to pass up a dance with the prettiest woman in here," Maggie says. "Besides, I can't bare to see you pout anymore."

Maggie allows Bianca to pull her off her seat, out of the booth, and toward the dance floor.

"Wow!" Bianca says when she is finally able to admire Maggie from head to toe. "You look so...wow." She gives Maggie a twirl before they proceed.

_In a matter of speaking_

_I just want to say_

_That I could never forget the way_

_You told me everything_

_By saying nothing_

As the yearning beat of the song embraces them and other couples slow dance around them, Bianca and Maggie become lost in each other's arms.

_In a matter of speaking _

_I don't understand_

_How love in silence becomes reprimand_

_But the way I feel about you_

_Is beyond words_

_Oh give me the words_

_That tell me nothing_

They sway to the rhythm of the music and to their own nervously beating hearts. Their bodies touch in places that make them warm and agitated, excited and aroused.

_Give me the words_

_That tell me everything_

_In a matter of speaking_

_Semantics won't do_

_In this life that we live_

_We only make do_

_And the way that I feel_

_Might have to be sacrificed_

They try to maintain their eye contact but a tinge of fear or desire or shyness makes them look away. Then only a moment passes before they have to look at each other again not bearing to take their focus off the beauty that stands in front of them.

_So in a matter of speaking_

_I just want to say_

_That like you I should find a way_

_To tell you everything_

_By saying nothing_

"I'm ready to leave now," Maggie says.

"Already? Is all of this freaking you? I shouldn't have-"

Maggie puts her fingers to Bianca's lips and says, "I'm ready to leave...now."

Bianca catches her breath and leads Maggie hastily off the dance floor. She doesn't need any more words to understand exactly what Maggie is really saying.

_Thanks to Nouvelle Vague for the lyrics of their very beautiful song, "In a Matter of Speaking"_


	10. Chapter 10

**First Time**

Once Bianca thanks Aimée, the au pair, for taking such wonderful care of Miranda and walks her to the door, she returns to where she left Maggie by Miranda's crib, lovingly gazing over her sleeping daughter.

"Can she be any sweeter than this?" Maggie whispers to Bianca.

Bianca's heart leaps with joy at the sudden awareness of how happy she is at this very moment in her life; she has Miranda now forever and her best friend is beside her. They are together, like a family, at long last.

When Maggie yawns, Bianca takes her hand and quietly leads her out of Miranda's room. Bianca closes the door behind her. The hall is quite dim but lit enough for Bianca to notice Maggie looking down on their clasped hands. Maggie releases the hold by spreading her hand open and lets Bianca's hand rest flat on it, palm against palm. With her other hand, Maggie strokes Bianca's fingers, assessing their softness, examining their length and studying the rounded smoothness of her well-manicured nails.

"I never noticed how beautiful your hands are," Maggie says.

"And they're functional too," Bianca says, blushes, then corrects herself. "Uh, what I mean is that they work... I mean, I don't mean like that, I mean...you know that saying about beauty and functionality?"

"Ya, like," Maggie says, attempting to keep Bianca from further embarrassment. "Like, uh, architecture. The Musée d'Orsay or the Guggenheim at Barcelona is an expression of beauty and functionality."

"That's what I'm desperately trying to say yet successfully humiliating myself in the process," Bianca says. "I'm going to bed."

"Hey," Maggie touches Bianca's arm as she turns away. "I had a really good time."

"Me too."

They stare at each other unsure of what to do next.

"I guess this is goodnight," Bianca says.

"I guess it is," Maggie says. "Á demain."

"Á demain," Bianca responds.

Bianca slowly turns away contemplating the right words to say to Maggie before they depart to their separate quarters. But the words don't come. She walks a few feet to her bedroom door then changes her mind.

"Maggie?" Bianca loudly calls out as if Maggie had proceeded down the hall to the guest room. However, when she turns around, Bianca is startled to find Maggie still leaning against the door of Miranda's room.

"Oh," Bianca lowers his voice, then laughs. "I thought you were going to bed."

"I am."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"An invitation."

Bianca shakes her head and smiles as she opens her bedroom door just a crack and slips in without saying a word. Maggie watches from her post as Bianca's door mysteriously opens wider and remains ajar beaconing its most treasured guest to enter.

* * *

In Bianca's room, Maggie is still in the wrap-around dress she wore to dinner however, but Bianca has changed into something more comfortable; a black, silk night shirt long enough to lounge in but short enough to make Maggie blush and avert her gaze from the hemline that reveals an immodest length of Bianca's thigh. They sit facing each other at the window seat looking at the stars and at the moon which reflects patterns of light on the court yard below. 

Maggie reaches out for Bianca's hand and as Maggie peers up at the sky, Bianca looks at her as if this were the first time she had ever set eyes on this lovely site. The moon glistens in her eyes and a band of darkness casts a perfect shadow across her face. Bianca kisses Maggie just above one of her eyes. Maggie looks at Bianca. Bianca kisses Maggie on the bridge of her nose. Then Bianca kisses Maggie on that little dip between the nose and the top lip.

"That's nice," Maggie whispers.

Their lips meet. They pull back from each other, gaze and kiss again. Bianca's eyes scan Maggie's face then she lightly touches it as if it were a fragile piece of porcelain. Bianca brings both of her hands up to Maggie's face, just under her jaw, and makes a sweeping motion down her neck and across her shoulders, settling her hands on her upper arms; assessing Maggie's flawlessness like a recently crafted sculpture.

"I need you so much, Maggie," Bianca whispers. " I need you to breath because, you take my breath away."

Maggie wells up with tears as she searches Bianca eyes.

Then Bianca says, "Take my breath away."

Maggie kisses Bianca and as she does so, Bianca gasps for air.

* * *

They lay on Bianca's bed; Maggie flat on her back, Bianca on her side, propped up on her elbow. The two top buttons of Bianca's nightshirt are now undone and her milky white breasts appear to spill from the dark opening. As Bianca looks down at Maggie with soulful, brown eyes, Maggie reaches up to Bianca's face and gently pulls it down towards hers until their lips meet. 

As they kiss, Bianca strokes Maggie's soft, smooth skin in the low v-neck opening of her dress, then slips her hand under the fabric unable to resist the need to feel Maggie in the palm of her hand. Maggie is not wearing a bra. Bianca can barely contain herself as she massages and teases Maggie's small and tender breast; an act that she has fantasized about for years. Maggie moans and her back arches in response. Scintillating points of energy tingle throughout their bodies. They kiss deeper.

Bianca removes her hand and finds her way down to the tie that holds Maggie's wrap-around dress closed and unfastens it. As the fabric is peeled away from Maggie's body, Bianca stops kissing long enough to indulge in the sight before her.

"You are so...," Bianca whispers, so filled with emotion that she is unable to complete her sentence.

The tips of Bianca's fingers lightly trace a slow and intent path from between Maggie's slight thighs up past her black lace panties to her lower stomach. Maggie flinches at the sensation. Making sure to sensually examine every aspect of Maggie's body, Bianca's fingers zigzag up Maggie's stomach then she runs the back of her hand along Maggie's arm up to her shoulder then across her collarbones. Bianca loves the feel of the soft down-like hairs that coat Maggie's skin. She gently touches Maggie's breasts, drawing circles around and on them; they are small, perky, alert, waiting, anticipating...

Anticipating Bianca's warm mouth to envelope them, moist tongue to caress them and gentle teeth to tease them. Maggie moans. Bianca drapes her thigh over Maggie's leg to seal the contact and heighten the pressure where she needs it most right now.

From Maggie's breasts, Bianca nibbles her way up to Maggie's neck, while Bianca's hand finds its way back down to the lace panties. From outside the fabric, Bianca can already feel Maggie's wetness seeping through. A wave of warmth passes through Bianca's body. She closes her eyes as she feels herself melt away and lose any form of control. She continues to touch Maggie's wet spot, making concentric circular motions, watching Maggie's hips move to the rhythm and listening to Maggie's breath and quiet pleas for release, until...Bianca feels her wrist being grabbed by the force of two hands.

Startled, Bianca stops and stares at Maggie, seeing something in her that Bianca has never seen before. Fearing that she has gone too far, Bianca tries to withdraw her hand from Maggie's grip, but she can't. Maggie won't let her. Bianca searches Maggie's face for some sign, some signal. She knows Maggie so well that Bianca would know what Maggie needed without any words. But now Bianca is perplexed until...

Bianca feels her hand being slowly guided by a trembling hand to the rim of Maggie's panties, then her fingers guided by shaky fingers under the stretchy edge, under the delicate lace, past a bare mound into a pool of unfettered waters. The touching is short and shallow at first , then long and deep; from slow and careful to fast and faster, Bianca is guided by Maggie's pleasure and by her own desire to please. Bianca's heart skips a beat when Maggie cries out her name. There is no ceasing the onslaught of emotion that surges from them. They are a torrent of hands touching and lips tasting, pulses beating and bodies eager, until...

Until the fluttering stops, the cries quieten, the breaths regulate, and the yearning subsides. Bianca wraps Maggie into her arms, skin on warm skin, where they both fall asleep, comforted, secure and loved.


	11. Chapter 11

**The Morning After**

With red, swollen eyelids, Bianca peers through the misty fog as she desperately tries to get one last look at Maggie in the distance who glides away as if she's floating on a cloud. Their flowing, sheer white togas - Maggie's revealing one shoulder; Bianca's, the shadowed mysterious valley between her breasts - billow in the gentle breeze that separates them. Bianca calls out Maggie's name at the top of her lungs, longing for the girl to come back to her. When Maggie turns around, her gentle brown eyes are vacant as she stares in Bianca's direction but does not appear to see her. Maggie continues to float away, a baby - Miranda? Bianca thinks - appears to be in her arms. Bianca falls to her knees as she sobs in the palms of her hands, her whole body wracked with unrelenting pain.

Yet when Bianca's eyes peel apart the sleep that holds them together, she is greeted with a different site.

"Good morning, beautiful," Maggie says.

Tears stream down Bianca's cheeks. Maggie's own eyes well up with tears as she wipes Bianca's away. A single sheet covers their naked bodies.

"Was it something I said?" Maggie teases. "Something I did?"

"You...you...this," Bianca attempts to say as the tears come faster. "Is everything I ever dreamed it would be. You're the best thing that has ever happened to me."

"Then don't cry, Bianca," Maggie says amid her own tears. "Because I'm not going any where. I'm never leaving you."

On this morning, the words 'I love you' do not need to be spoken.

"What did you do to me?" Maggie asks.

"Everything."

"No, I mean," Maggie says, blushing. "What did you do to me here and here?" Maggie points to her head and to her heart. "I am so in love with you yet I feel like I'm losing it at the same time."

"How do you think I feel?"

"You feel," Maggie says as she runs her fingers and hand along the side of Bianca's face and down her neck. "Wonderful."

Maggie shakes her head and laughs.

"What?" Bianca asks.

"I can't believe," Maggie says looking up as if the words will appear from the ceiling. "I spent all those years being so -"

"Scared?"

"Scared, worried, confused, nervous. Bianca, you brought me heaven."

"You are heaven."

"You are amazing," Maggie says as she runs a finger from the top of the sheet that covers Bianca's chest down to her navel.

Bianca blushes. "It's been awhile."

"Well, everything worked. Believe you, me. Everything."

"Apparently," Bianca says with a little grin. "Your French is improving too."

Maggie feigns shock as she playfully attempts to hit Bianca. As Bianca restrains Maggie's wrist, they lock eyes. A tsunami-sized wave of desire surges around them.

"Je t'envie...Encore."


	12. Chapter 12

**Coming Home**

"I know all these general bio and science topics. I aced this entire course already at PVU. But how am I ever going to pass the mid-term exam if it's entirely in French?" Maggie laments to Cecelia as they leave their Pure and Applied Science class. It is a mild fall night just after nine o'clock. "On top of all the tutoring I get from you and those three intro to the French language classes that I took in the spring and summer, I still feel like I'm not grasping all the concepts."

"N'inquiete pas. No worry," Cecelia reassures Maggie. "We find a way. Look me. I understand French, I no understand science. Alors, you help me, I help you."

"You've already helped me so much."

"Ce n'est pas grave. Teach you French is easy. J'aime bien le faire."

"It's not just that. You've also been a real friend. I didn't know anyone here and you've introduced me to your friends, to your culture, to your way of life. You've made it so easy for me to fit in and to feel comfortable here. Thank you."

Cecelia smiles.

"Bon!" Cecelia suddenly exclaims. "What we do tonight?"

"Oh no, I'm going home," Maggie says. "This will be the third time this week that we've hung out after class. I have to study."

"Mais voyons donc, it's Friday."

Maggie laughs, "That's what you said about Monday and Wednesday."

"Tonight is different. It not just be you and me. My boyfriend, J.P., comes et mes amis Amélie, Stéphane, Joachim et Alain. You have to meet Alain. I think you like him."

"I haven't even met him," Maggie says. "Cecelia, I really have something to tell-"

"Excuse my English," Cecelia interrupts. " I think you will like him."

"But Cece -"

"Always excuses. Let's go."

-----

When Maggie comes into the apartment at two in the morning, she notices something different. The foyer light is off but she can see the glare of the salon lamp shining on the hallway runner. Maggie walks into the salon to find Bianca lying on the couch with her eyes closed; an open book rests on her stomach. Maggie quietly puts her school bag down and kneels beside her sleeping beauty. Maggie studies Bianca's impeccably tweezed eyebrows, long eyelashes and neat nose. She focuses on Bianca's lips and has an unexpected urge to kiss them.

"Hey," Bianca says, suddenly opening her eyes.

Startled, Maggie falls back onto her heels.

"When did you get in?" Bianca asks as she comes out of her slumber.

"Just now."

"Late class," Bianca says. "You've been having a lot of those lately."

"Cecelia. She can always find a reason to hang out. You should be in bed. What are doing out here?"

"Waiting for you," Bianca says as she stretches and yawns. "With my working during the day and your evening classes we barely see each other."

"How was your day?" Maggie asks as she strokes Bianca's hair behind her ear.

"Please don't ask. I don't know what was worse Carrington humiliating me in front of my board or spilling coffee on the board chair as I stood up to defend myself."

"Ooh not good. I'd take possibly failing my mid-term over that any day."

"On a lighter note, Miranda asked for you."

"She did?" Maggie asks, elated. "What did she say?"

"Something along the lines of 'ggie, ggie' followed by a lot of her usual endearing gibberish."

"That's so sweet. I miss not seeing her tonight."

"The Munchkin wasn't the only person who missed you, you know. I was hoping to catch you when you came home too. Especially on a Friday night when neither of us has to be anywhere tomorrow."

Bianca kisses Maggie, tasting every flavor that has come into contact with Maggie's mouth.

When Bianca pulls away she asks, "Merlot or Cabernet?"

"Right now," Maggie says as she leans in to reciprocate the kiss. "I don't even remember."

Bianca puts her finger to Maggie's lips and says, "Well since you had me waiting, you might as well tell me what you were doing all night."

"We went to some Bistro and I met Cece's boyfriend, J.P. Nice guy, not as free-spirited as she is, but they work. Then she introduced me to this really crazy friend of hers, Alain. She actually thought we'd get along, you know, hook up or something. He was such a nut! Can you imagine?"

"No, I can't," Bianca laughs. "I mean considering...she does know, right?"

"Know what?"

"About us? You have told her about us, haven't you?"

Maggie is silent.

"Maggie?" Bianca asks as she sits up on the couch.

"What's to tell? I mean, I've tried to but other things just come up. Besides, I don't think it's any of her business."

"It is if she's trying to set you up with her friends."

"It wasn't a set up."

Bianca cocks her head to the side and raises her eyebrows.

"Well, maybe it was," Maggie confesses. "But, what am I supposed to say."

"Tell her you're in a relationship, you're unavailable, you're not looking, I don't know, anything. But don't pretend we don't exist."

"I'm not you, Bianca. I just can't come out to the whole world like that. It's not that easy."

"By no means am I asking you to come out. I know you're still figuring things out, who you are, what you're comfortable with. But I'm not comfortable with you acting like you're single. Because you're not. I have no problem accepting where you are with all of this but I will not accept being ignored as a significant person in your life; the person you share a home with, practically my child with, and…my bed."

After a brief moment of thoughtful silence Maggie blurts, "Well I don't know what to do."

"Just tell her the truth."

"I told you, it's not that easy. My telling her that I'm in a relationship amounts to my coming out. She's obviously going to ask questions: 'What's his name? How long have I been with him? Why don't you ever talk about him?' And I'm not ready for all of that...for what all that means."

Bianca is silent.

"Bianca, listen to me. Look at me," Maggie says. "You have to believe me when I say that I love you and that I truly love every moment that we have together. You're the only person who has ever made me feel this way. I'm so in love with you in a way I never imagined I could be with anyone, let alone, a woman. I cherish that and would never belittle it in any way. But what we do in this apartment, in our bedroom, in our hearts, I want to keep in a special, quiet place of our own."

"But your silence makes us disappear."

"As loud as my heart beats for you, you're always right here," Maggie says as she puts Bianca's hand to her chest.

Bianca exhales a weighted sigh and says, "We obviously see things differently. I guess the only thing that truly matters is that we're together."

"I don't know about you but I'm ready for bed," Maggie says as she yawns. "Let's get out of here."

Maggie takes Bianca's hand and helps her off the couch.

"I guess this sofa is not the most comfortable place to sleep," Bianca says.

As they stand face to face, bodies inches from each other, heat transferring in the little space between them, Maggie looks up at Bianca and asks, "Who said anything about sleeping?"

-----

In the guest room, on this early morning, Bianca and Maggie lay wrapped in each other's arms, partially clothed, kissing, jostling, giggling and reminiscing about good times. They are oblivious to their own fatigue, to the sun that will rise in just a few hours and to the energy they must conserve to contend with a well-rested Miranda who will wake up soon after.

When Maggie finally falls asleep in Bianca's arms, Bianca decides to sleep in her own room. She reluctantly leaves the bed and covers Maggie with the duvet. At the doorway of the guest room, Bianca stops and turns to look at Maggie sleeping, dreaming blissfully.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Good Day**

A warm ray of morning sunlight creeps under Maggie's sleepy eyelids. Her arms and legs stretch and unfurl like a new sprouting leaf in a time-lapsed film. The delicate sensation of the 800 thread Egyptian silk sheets that caress her bare skin makes that feeling come back from the night before when... A lazy, pleased smile spreads across Maggie's lips. Bianca's body heat radiates onto Maggie's who arches her back like a well-scratched cat. Though sound asleep, Bianca stirs as Maggie quietly and reluctantly rolls out of bed and carefully searches through the sheets for her boxer shorts and tank top that were carelessly tossed in last night's foray.

In the hallway, Maggie puts on a pair of Crocs and a light sweater to cut the early morning chill as she prepares to go outside. She leaves the flat and descends three flights of a winding staircase that leads to the building's street level foyer in the front and to the court yard in the back.

The expansive, garden courtyard is enclosed on all four sides by the five story brick building they live in creating a perfect symmetry of French windows on each wall. Every window displays a little wrought iron balcony uniquely decorated with hanging plants, vines and potted flowers. Sun shines onto half of the court yard as it strains over the top of the building onto the immaculately manicured square oasis of wildflowers, perennials, and trees. The trickle of an Italian water fountain in the center of the garden is the only sound that cuts through the dense morning silence. Maggie breathes in a large helping of fresh air and looks up into the clear patch of blue sky that hovers over her like a canopy. An elderly woman watering several potted plants resting on her little balcony draws Maggie's attention to one of the windows on the second floor. They nod to each other and smile.

"Bonjour," the old woman calls down. "Sera une bonne journée, oui?"

"Oui," Maggie says with a smile. "It will be a good day."

Maggie looks around the edge of the garden and finds a pair of shears exactly wear she left them.

"Lilies, gerberas, one sunflower - the biggest one - and a couple of yellow roses," Maggie says to herself. "That'll be perfect."

On her knees, she clips her selections, which are in full bloom, and considers a blossom of dark purple African violets to compliment the yellows. She strokes the velvety petals.

_"It's so soft," she whispered in the other's ear._

_Her head rested on the other's shoulder, their hands covertly seeking under the sheets where the moonlight casts a bright strip of light._

_"Ya," the other giggled, then sighed a desire-laden breath. "You've never..."_

_"No, I've..." she said. "But I like it...I do...it's yours."_

_"Right there," the other whispered. "That's it, ya, that's it..."_

_A hint of freshly moistened soil pervaded the air._

Maggie absentmindedly touches the petal, lost in her thoughts of the night before. She suddenly shakes the fuzzy feeling out of her head and blinks her eyes a few times before she stands up with a basket full of fresh flowers. She wipes specks of dirt from her face.

Back upstairs in the kitchen, Maggie places a pint of strawberries on the counter beside the fresh oranges, flour, milk and sugar. On the table, the Mikasa crystal vase flourishes with fresh floral cuttings. She runs her finger down the index of a cook book and stops at the word "crepes", then turns on the flat griddle so that it warms up to the perfect temperature while she mixes ingredients together.

A half hour later, steam rises from a stack of hot, crispy, yet pliable, crepes that are rolled up on a platter waiting to be served and the room is filled with the nostalgic aroma of a grandmother's rustic, countryside kitchen. By the time Maggie slices into the juice orange, the sun shines through the kitchen window, glinting off the knife. Maggie looks at the wall clock and anticipates that she has about another half hour before Bianca wakes up.

"Ouch!" Maggie says as she assesses the glowing red sliver on her finger created by the blade that slices into her skin. A sweet, savory juice runs off the exposed orange pulp onto the cutting board and onto the fingers that still grip the rind.

_She felt the sheet dampen under her._

_"Is this okay?" the other asked._

_Her eyes were shut tight by then, the back of her neck was clammy._

_"Ya...ya," she said breathlessly. "It's, it's...oh god..."_

_A sticky, sugary pleasure scintillated through her body._

Maggie places her finger in her mouth to stop the bleeding and to subdue the sting of the citric acid that seeps into the cut. It tastes ferrously sweet. Definitely more tangy than the strawberry that she bites into. A line of red juice dribbles from her lip down her chin. Maggie points her injured finger into the air at an awkward angle when she cuts the rest of the berries in half. She arranges the pieces beside the crepes. Maggie slices through the center of a large strawberry.

"That's cute," Maggie says as she places two perfect, heart-shaped strawberry halves side-by-side on top of the crepes. The berry's red outer surrounds a narrow white hollow that a thin fuzzy protrusion juts into.

_"It looks like what?" she asked giggling._

_"You heard me," the other replied from under the sheet._

_"I'll never look at that fruit the same way again," she whispered._

_"We should have some for breakfast," the other suggested as she dug her fingers into the girl's skin._

_"You can never eat enough," she said, then inhaled sharply._

_"Never," the other mumbled, her mouth full._

Maggie strains to balance the two coffees, two glasses of orange juice, platter of crepes, and arrangement of flowers on the breakfast tray that she gingerly carries from the kitchen into Bianca's bedroom. Glass clinks against ceramic and liquids slosh inside their cups. She places the tray on the bureau and tip toes out.

Miranda looks up from the stuffed animal that she sucks on and beams at Maggie who appears from around the infant's bedroom doorway.

"How long have you been up, Munchkin?" Maggie asks smiling back.

"'ggie, 'ggie!" Miranda squeals as she pulls herself up using the crib bars and baby bounces with delight. "'ggie, 'ggie!"

"Do you know what day it is?" Maggie asks as she lifts Miranda out of the crib.

Miranda cheerfully pats Maggie's cheeks and squeals.

"Ya, that's right a special day. Let's go wake up your mom."

When they return back to Bianca's room, Maggie scoots onto the bed with Miranda in her arms, and nuzzles close to Bianca's ear, "Wake up sleepy."

Bianca rolls over toward the syrupy sound of her lover's voice. A stretch elongates her lithe body and a smile stretches across her face as she peels apart her eyelids to the beautiful site of her daughter and Maggie.

"Hey, you two," Bianca says sleepily. She thoughtfully pauses then she squints her eyes. "Okay, what are you up to?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing special," Maggie says as she hands Miranda to Bianca, rolls off the bed and gets the bountiful breakfast tray sitting on the bureau.

Bianca sits up now, wrapping her bare body snuggly with the sheets, as she beams at the sight of the flowers, steaming crepes, fresh orange juice and fruit.

"Happy anniversary!" Maggie says.

"Has it been a year already?"

"It feels like we just stepped off the plane yesterday, doesn't it?" Maggie says carefully placing the tray on the bed. Miranda grabs a flower that is within her reach and tries to put it in her mouth. Bianca gently pulls it away.

"Maggie," Bianca exclaims as she marvels at the spread in front of her. "This is all so beautiful."

"Made especially for someone as beautiful as you," Maggie says. "Mangez, already!"

Maggie trickles syrup on the crepes, slices a corner and places the warm pastry to Bianca's lips. A sticky string of syrup drips back down onto the plate.

"This tastes so good. This is really good" Bianca says as she chews. "It tastes almost as good as..."

_"It does not," the other laughed with the last bit of energy that she could muster after her breathing finally subsided from short, orgasmic gasps to slow, languid sighs. The faint yellow hue of a new sunrise imperceptively crawled up the headboard._

_"It does to," she purred as she held the other girl tightly, her head nestled in the crook of her neck. "Well...at least yours does."_

_"They come in flavors?" the other laughed again._

_"If you only knew," she said._

_"Montre-moi," the other answered._

"…as good as...," Bianca repeats dreamily as thoughts of their sleepless night slip back into focus. The abrasive sound of Maggie clearing her throat returns Bianca's attention to the room. Maggie's face is beet red as her eyes dart from looking at Bianca to looking at Miranda.

"Oh," Bianca says bashfully and she and Maggie make their best attempt to conceal the secretive smiles that form on their faces.

"Let's eat already."


	14. Chapter 14

**Maggie and Cecelia's Night Out**

On a late Friday night, Maggie, Cecelia, Alain and J.P. stagger arm and arm along Le Seine singing, or rather slurring, old French songs. While the three Franco-natives croon as many lyrics as their intoxicated minds will allow them to remember, Maggie laughs and hums along in a less inebriated state having had only a glass or two of wine compared to the others drinking a limitless amount of carafes in celebration of completing their spring mid-terms.

"Alain, voyons donc, c'est trop tard. Nous doyons partir chez nous. J'en ai assez," says a tired J.P. to his roommate as he attempts to unlink Alain's arms from the two girls on either side of him and drag Alain in the direction of the student apartment that they share.

"Mais non," Alain protests unintelligibly. "I not leave these two beautiful ladies alone, in the night, in the dark. Especiallement not the beautiful Americaine, Majee."

"My name's Maggie," she corrects him, laughing.

"Selon moi," Alain says as he takes Maggie's hand in his and drops to his knee. "Vous êtes la magie, magnifique!"

Alain kisses Maggie's hand like a chivalrous gentleman while Cecelia and J.P. laugh at his antics. Maggie is feeling buzzed enough to join in the hilarity. J.P. gives Cecelia a long kiss goodbye then yanks dreamy-eyed Alain off his knees, pulling him down the block away from Maggie and Cecelia.

"Je t'aime! Je t'aime! I love you," Alain screams as J.P. forcibly drags him down the street. Then Maggie watches in utter disbelief as Alain rips open his shirt bearing his toned, hairless chest to the eastern spring breeze. Both girls look at each other and burst out laughing as they turn away from the spectacle and continue to walk arm in arm in the direction that will eventually lead them to their respective homes.

"Il est bien fou, ce mec," Cecelia chuckles.

"Ya think," Maggie says.

"I know Alain since children and he never change. Always like that."

"I can't believe you actually thought I'd like him."

"Mais oui! Alain? You? So different. It's good like that. Look me and J.P. He so, comment dire, conservative, quiet, a good man and me, je suis...bien, moi."

"Ya, spontaneous, daring and fun," Maggie says as she breathes in the evening air. The smell of river water draws her attention to Le Seine and her breath is taken away by the sudden realization why Paris is called the city of lights. Pinpoints of white light sparkle and ripple on the surface of the famed river. She absentmindedly releases the hold from Cecelia's arm and dreamily walks to the edge of the railing to be closer to the spectacular light show. Maggie slightly squints in order to refocus the glare out of her eyes. It's beautiful to her, so calming and peaceful. She suddenly wishes Bianca were with her, at her side, enjoying this moment with her, touching her face, kissing her. Maggie closes her eyes. A mild breeze sweeps back her hair and caresses her face. She suddenly wants to be home and barely notices that Cecelia is saying something to her.

"Bien?" Cecelia asks, expecting an answer to a question.

"What?" Maggie says opening her eyes which are reflective and watery partially due to her fatigue and the effects of the wine on her senses.

"J'ai di, what do you like?" Cecelia asks again as she leans against the railing beside Maggie. Their arms touch as they both look out onto the water.

"I like this," Maggie says referring to the mystical scene in front of her. "I love this."

"No, what kind of person you like, you know…to love?"

An image of Bianca materializes in her tipsy haze and a secret smile forms on Maggie face.

"A special person," Maggie answers.

"Like you, oui?"

Then before clarity seeps through her alcohol-induced fog, Maggie feels lips as soft as Bianca's touching hers and she feels her own tongue respond to the lure of another and she feels her breath quicken and her heart race and her body draw closer to the one in front of hers. The body whose parts mirror her own instead of being staggered a little bit higher; its belly warm, arms eager and breasts soft. Maggie moans as her escalating need mounts. Maggie abruptly pushes Cecelia away looking at her dazed and confused.

"You are the lover of Bianca, oui?" Cecelia asks as she touches her own lips. She is flushed and glossy-eyed.

Maggie is silent.

"When I see her, Bianca," Cecelia continues. "She look at you so...strong."

Maggie cannot peel her eyes away from Cecelia's, yet she cannot find any words to say.

"Who am I to you, ma cher?" Cecelia asks as she strokes Maggie cheek. The aroma of stale wine hovers in the short distance between Cecelia and Maggie's lips.

Maggie blinks at Cecelia's question before she runs away not daring to look back at the girl who stares bleary-eyed after her.


End file.
